


Something Special, Someone Sacred

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Qui-Gon's Ashes, Qui-Gon's Lightsaber, Yippee!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small accident in their newly-shared living space causes Obi-Wan and Anakin to break apart and then come together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Special, Someone Sacred

**Author's Note:**

  * For [patientalien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/gifts).
  * Inspired by ["Obi-Wan Hugging Little Ani" Fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/26280) by Rin/lady-anakin-skywalker. 



> Wrote this up quick-and-dirty for Sarah, who is having some things happen this week requiring her to be even more brave and awesome than usual; ergo, I thought she could use a little cheerleading. Go go go Sarah! You can do it! Takes place very soon after Episode I, so beware nine-year-old Anakin-isms. At least half of the credit for this goes to Rin/lady-anakin-skywalker, who basically supplied the bulk of the ideas for it via text conversation the other night, and also drew the amazing fanart linked above. In my opinion, the initial idea for the story was adorable and sad and perfect, and I made the text equivalent of dying whale noises until she agreed politely that I could write it, because she is, after all, a lady. Title comes from George Michael's "Father Figure."

It's not a tradition, per se, for a Jedi Padawan to receive his or her Master's urn upon their death, but Qui-Gon Jinn's demise is such a tragic example of a Jedi being taken (some would say, too soon) to become one with the Force that it's just assumed that his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, might appreciate the memento. It's the same reason why nobody asks Obi-Wan to give up his Master's lightsaber, even though it would easily have a place amongst other fallen Jedi artifacts in the Archives. 

The urn containing Qui-Gon's ashes from his funeral pyre is largely unremarkable; about a foot tall and barely half as wide, it is a brown, nondescript thing, and when Master Windu delivers it to the apartment that Obi-Wan is now the master of, though not by choice at all, it is a comforting gesture to place it atop a low-slung table in the sitting area, even more so than picking it up and clutching it to his chest would be, were Obi-Wan to trust himself to do so without getting even more maudlin and beginning to sob. The urn sits stoically atop the surface that is intended to be its new home, until it becomes something of a funeral pyre in and of itself.

Anakin's presence in their - his, because it's not Qui-Gon's anymore, even though his essence permeates every nook and cranny, every corner and artifact and mundane household item alike - home is full of sporadic energy. He is youthful and easily excited and it's not that Obi-Wan hates the boy so much as he's terribly overwhelmed by him and, more specifically, terribly devastated that he's here in Qui-Gon's place. It's not Anakin's fault, of course - if anything, it's Obi-Wan's, for not being faster, for not felling his opponent more efficiently, because maybe if he'd gotten to his Master's side sooner, perhaps if the Zabrakian Sith apprentice had stabbed him instead ... well, they wouldn't be here now in this capacity then, so there was that - but all the same, the so-called Chosen One grates quickly on Obi-Wan's nerves. He's never had much patience for children - even as an Initiate, he recalls feeling generally irritated by his fellow not-quite-younglings-anymore, like he was meant to be somewhere else, away from their teasing and mean-spirited speculation about who among them would fail to become a Padawan at all and general immaturity - and because Anakin seems to require full-time care, being too old for the youngling crèche, yet too young to assimilate with the other apprentices - and full-time attention, at that, for his seemingly unquenchable curiosity for information about his still-new surroundings or, as is usually the case, an available ear for his childish prattling - it's practically a guarantee that Obi-Wan is going to snap, and good.

It happens rather innocuously; one moment, Anakin is bouncing around, talking and gesticulating wildly, probably about something mundane about 'droids made from garbage parts or how much he really likes flying (never mind that, even at all of nine years old and without any formal practice whatsoever, the kid is better at it than some Masters, even), and the next, the urn topples in slow motion, wobbling on its base and, before Anakin or Obi-Wan can think to do much more than watch its progression in horror, crashes to the ground, breaking into several pieces both large and small, and scattering the remains of Obi-Wan's (and Anakin's, loathe though he is to admit it) beloved Master among the granules of the beige carpeting beneath their feet.

"OH!" Anakin's small voice is pitched even higher than usual, both in fear and horror. Almost comically, he smacks the palm of his right hand to his forehead. "Whoops! I'm so sorry, Master Obi-Wan, Sir," he gasps, his mouth open in an 'O' shape. In contrast, Obi-Wan's own visage is calm, collected; it would be difficult to tell that he was angry in the first place, save for the tightened jaw and, as Anakin has come to recognize as a sign that his Master is pissed off, his closely crossed arms. "Oh, you're mad, aren't you?" Anakin ventures, and suddenly, Obi-Wan cannot keep the peace any longer.

Staring down at his feet, the toes of his boots now covered in soot, the Padawan-cum-Jedi Master and now-revered (much to his chagrin) "Sith Killer" takes a deep breath, and then releases it slowly. "You clumsy little oaf," he bites out, and though the volume is low, the tone is vicious; below him, standing stock still, Anakin pales immediately. "It's not enough that he's dead, but you can't even leave well enough alone to properly honor his memory?"

Anakin's chin is trembling a little. "Master, I'm sorry ..." he manages. He sucks in a noisy breath, the act much less finessed than the same mannerism long-perfected and just previously used by Obi-Wan, and naturally, it does little to stop his onslaught of tears, though he does attempt to hastily wipe them away using the back of his hand. "I'm s-sorry," he says again, his voice diminished to practically a whisper. Hearing his breath hitch just before he begins to sob only serves to irritate Obi-Wan more, however, and when he fixes his gaze on his (really, his, not Qui-Gon's, not anymore) Padawan anew, the stare is so cold that Anakin's face screws up and smoothes out in mid-cry, and he even takes a step back. "Master ..." he tries once more, but Obi-Wan just holds up a hand to silence him, and Anakin falls blissfully, terribly silent.

"I'll be in my room." The older Jedi's face is still far too young for the tragedy it seems to have beheld, though his voice is still cool and detached. "Don't do anything else stupid while I'm gone," he adds, and Anakin watches the older man pivot on his heel and stalk off towards the short hallway leading to his - Qui-Gon's, really, but it might start to feel like Obi-Wan's someday, too, perhaps - private bedroom. The door closes with a softness that betrays the emotions now swirling through the Force and through their prematurely forged training bond, and Anakin blinks sadly as he remains firmly on the other side of it.

*

 

Anakin does his best to leave Obi-Wan be for roughly an hour or so, until, perhaps, the sheer misery permeating the mystical space between them simply becomes too much. Slowly, the door to Qui-Gon's-cum-Obi-Wan's bedroom inches open, a small hand on the outside knob. "Master, Sir, I'm ..." Anakin begins, and then stops to stare at the sight before him. 

Sitting on the large bed that is the room's main feature by far, Obi-Wan's youthful visage is pointed downwards at his lap, on which Qui-Gon's lightsaber hilt sits, nestled in his left hand. The older man's own gaze rises slowly, and when their eyes meet, Obi-Wan's expression is kind again, even a tiny bit guilty.

"Anakin." He clears his throat, and Anakin, sensing no more malice, dutifully trots into the room proper. He comes up to Obi-Wan's side, and stares, too, at the intricate carvings along Qui-Gon's 'saber handle. "Can I hold it?" he asks cautiously, and Obi-Wan smiles a little. 

"Of course." Loosening his own grip, the Jedi Master places the artifact carefully into Anakin's outstretched hand. He watches the boy's face shift to a surprised, even awed expression. "It's so heavy!" Anakin gasps, and Obi-Wan even chuckles a couple of times.

"Yes, I thought so the first time Qui-Gon let me hold it as well. I was a bit older than you, even." The 'saber hilt changes hands once more, and Obi-Wan sets it beside him. Then, a new emotion flits across his young face. "Padawan," he says, as if the word is a new taste on his tongue, "I want to apologize." In front of him, Anakin begins to protest, but Obi-Wan interrupts him gently: "Though you did break something very precious to me, I should have found a more constructive way to deal with my anger over it. I am very sorry, Anakin. I did not mean to compound an already negative situation with my own hang-ups. Can you forgive me?"

Anakin's expression was once again very nearly comical. "Yeah," he said after a beat or so, as if seriously making sure that he hears the words correctly. "Yeah!" Impulsively, with none of Obi-Wan's carefully honed restraint, the boy barrels into the space between Obi-Wan's legs, throwing his arms around his Master's midsection, just beneath his armpits and, eventually, curling up on Obi-Wan's lap for an extended hug. "I tried to fix it, Master," he intones after a minute or so of cuddling, his small face pressed into the crook of Obi-Wan's neck and shoulder, and then moving so that he can meet Obi-Wan's gaze anew. "I'm good at rebuilding stuff! It probably will still have some cracks in it, but I'll be really careful with it in the future, I promise." He looks slightly more chagrined suddenly. "I also tried to clean up some of the stuff inside, but ... it didn't work so well." 

Obi-Wan's smile returns, and with it, the urge to ruffle Anakin's newly-ish short-shorn hair. "We'll figure it out together," he tells the boy, the tenor of his voice calm and kind again, and perhaps, if Anakin isn't mistaken, a bit less standoffish than usual, even. "Perhaps I put too much stock in having an artifact specifically in place to remember Master Qui-Gon." His eyes stray briefly to the lightsaber hilt, though with Anakin bundled in his arms, he cannot pick it up anew; and yet, somehow, it's okay not to now. "Perhaps that's what the Force was trying to tell me all along."

"Maybe it wants you to concentrate on what's happening now and not stay stuck in the past." Anakin's suggestion is unwittingly and uncannily similar to Qui-Gon's favored advice for Obi-Wan, save for the nine-year-old parlance, and on cue, the energy around them is warm and peaceable. "Maybe," Obi-Wan says softly, and if Anakin minds the bit of desperation emanating from his new Master as the older man clutches at him with just a bit more fervor than before, he waylays it by holding him even more tightly in response, unsure of just who is comforting whom, and yet, not really caring one way or the other.


End file.
